


Terrible Things Lurk Beyond the Horizon...

by dotgif



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Other, Self-Indulgent, Spoilers, basically the entire gw2 story but its my story now, more characters as i update - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:28:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23146984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotgif/pseuds/dotgif
Summary: (Obligatory spoilers for everything as I update)1307 A.E.A well kept secret of origins sends a threat to all of Tyria, commanding the weapon as it's master sleeps, throwing it to the center of all Sylvari culture.However, it didn't expect that its weapon would be stupid as fuck.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1000 and up words of straight up bullshit lets get into the fiction that will only satisfy me myself and i
> 
> welcome to the shit show

In Brisban Wildlands, banked next to a small puddle in the northwestern corner of the region, was a large, unattached sylvan pod. The sprout contained in the pod began to start tearing itself out of its walls, eyes shut closed, and pod fluids sticking to her bark. She crawled out of the pod and stumbled sideways into the puddle, smacking her head softly against the floor of the water body. The sprout grunted and rose on all fours, shaking herself off like a dog, wet, large wine-coloured petals slapping her darkish blue-green cheeks, water and pod fluid spraying everywhere, causing some marmox to flee from the young sylvari.

Her eyes fluttered open, wide and curious of the world around her. She, still on her hands and feet, ran around the small area, staying cautious of the encampments near her. After trampling the smaller humanoids, another sylvari grabbed her by the arm and yanked her away, not caring if her uneasy legs could keep up.

While being dragged backwards, eventually lying down to feel the ground scratch her stiff and sticky back, she would use her other arm to reach over and explore the dark themed sylvari’s armor, then back at her body, which only had petals over the more specific areas. She huffed, and blabbered up at the sylvari, who looked at her confused, as if he’d never heard that kind of tongue come out of anyone before. She added more definitive clicks and chirps, attempting to ask if the sylvari had understood, but his attention moved to talk to another one of his friends. It was her turn to become confused by the tongue used.

The grip was released, only for a hand to grab her shoulders and place her on her feet, coming face-to-face with a nicer looking sylvari. A neutral green in the face, pushed back, dark green petals adorned his scalp, and non-threatening plant armor donned. The friendlier sylvari smiled softly at her, and she smiled back, flashing teeth. He waved the other sylvari off, and raised a hand to explore her facial features. His hand rubbed on the two thorns extending outward, two for each eye, then circled around her wider-than-average eyes, pursing his lips. He moved his hand down to examine her arms, then hands, which had claws protruding from the fingertips, and his eyes lit up with intrigue. He used the same tongue she heard before to talk to another sylvari, a female, equipped with a whip and accompanied by a dog made purely of plants, then nodded towards a line of thorn-sculpted cages behind him, then walked off.

The female sylvari snared the sprout with the whip, and dragged her into an empty cage, throwing her in harshly and slamming the cage closed, cackling to herself as the sapling tore at the vines, claws doing next to nothing to the thorns, and causing bright red sap to seep from the tiny gashes in her hands.

When the sapling did tire, hours later of whimpers and shouts of pain from within the cage, she curled up in a darkened, forgotten corner of her new residence. She didn’t pay too much attention to the shouts that came from outside of the camp, rather than within, what with the torture to the other captives. Sound direction doesn’t come naturally for most.

The shouts died down, and the sapling lifted her head to scope the situation. She saw the camp had surrounded themselves at the bramble wall that guarded them, weapons drawn and dogs standing by. The dirt behind them became disturbed, leaving a faint trail of footprints towards the sapling’s cage. A brightly coloured dagger struck against the cage’s vines, and the sapling was now no longer caged. Whatever held the dagger concealed the weapon and bent the door off, then fled, rustling the grass as they ran from the scene, and like clockwork, the guards on the front line turned to attack the others.

In the chaos, the sapling quickly ran from the camp. Something in the mostly-empty head of hers told her to go south, following the ever-increasing floral scents into the denser part of whatever region she was in.

As the sapling’s speed increased, so did the number of bark-people, as well as shouts and strange looks directed to her, but she kept sprinting, and eventually her eyes caught sight of large petals in the distance, and her instincts screamed at her, in a more deep, guttural and demanding tone than before, that that’s where she needs to be. With one final roar from the voice, her hands hit the ground, claws extended and digging into the ground, and top speed was reached as she ran like an animal.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Despite how fast she bolted into the underside of the tree, one of the plant people snagged a rope on her leg and her skull slammed on the ground. Disoriented and tired, she barely fought back when they restrained her arms and dragged her down ramps and through a small crowd that quietly murmured, avoiding her gaze.

Once they threw her in a cage, albeit brighter and more spacious than her previous one, she heard the voice scream again. This one was much more clear then before.

_“MAKE THEM FEAR YOU.”_

Mimicking the sheer volume of the voice, her jaw unhinged and she shrieked, pressing herself against the vines and reaching between the plants to attempt to scratch the guards. She felt the bark on the end of her shoulders grow and sharpen to a point and her skull grow harder bark on her forehead, bending to match the flow of her hair.

Despite her outburst, the guards on either side of her cage simply stepped forward, well out of her reach. When what she assumed was their leader stepped forward, appearing from the shadows in dark plant-made armor, her own bark a pale green, the caged sprout felt a need to cower from the leader as she approached the entrance of the cell.

The woman would display a brightly coloured dagger, and the sprout would block out the screams in her head as she calmed down, slowly crawling towards the entrance of the cell.

The teal woman’s suspicions were confirmed. _“At least she has memory.”_ She thought.


	2. Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Entrusted by the Pale Tree, Caithe must now start the grueling journey of integrating the sapling into Sylvari culture.

Caithe kept the sapling on a tight leash, literally. The only binds that would keep her docile would be ones that don’t restrict her arms, and this was the best thing she could come up with. As soon as they arrived in the Omphalos chamber, the wardens immediately straightened their posture, saluting Caithe but keeping their eyes on the sylvari who was naked and walking on all fours. “I need to speak to the Pale Mother.” Two beats of silence seemed to wane on forever, and not a single sylvari caught on to what Caithe was implying. Caithe sighed, “Alone, if you would.”

Immediately the wardens would evacuate the Chamber, and Caithe walked the rest of the way to her mother’s avatar. “Mother, this is the… sylvari I told you about.” Caithe looked down at the sprout with pity when she buried her face in the ground and rolled around as much as the leash would allow her to.

The Pale Tree called for the sprout, and like a dog hearing a whistle, she would happily crawl to the luminescent avatar. Once within range, the Tree would hold the sprout’s jaw with one hand and place another on the forehead. A glow would pulse, and the sprout would go limp in the hands of the Tree, eyes looking empty as they trained on the Tree’s eyes. “This sapling has no Dream. No memories that span past today…” The Pale Tree paused, and released the sapling, letting the sapling run back to Caithe now that she was let out of the trance. “Caithe, I would ask you to keep this child in your care until she becomes independent.”

Caithe sputtered a bit, gaze shifting between the sapling and the Tree. “Mother, I respect your decision but… why me? Surely another Firstborn would be better?” She would step away from the sapling when it would nuzzle against her leg, purring loudly. A faint glow would emanate from her bark as Caithe avoided eye contact with the other sylvari.

“They would not understand her. You are the only one who understands that this kind of damage is not the nature of Nightmare, nor the Dream.” The Pale Tree’s tone lowered, pouting, folding her hands as if she couldn’t find the right words to say. Or if she could say them. “This sapling is under the control of something  _ entirely different _ .” 

Both of them knew what that meant, but saying it directly would give it power. Caithe nodded and bowed before her Mother before departing from the Chamber.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The speech therapy was not going well.

Caithe buried her face in her hands, slouched on a stool while the sapling was rolling on the floor and making various clicking noises. When she groaned, though, the sapling mimicked her perfectly, and a solution to this problem lit up in her brain.

Caithe pointed to the sapling, then her own mouth, and began making sounds like a human baby. The Firstborn’s dignity was painfully being ripped from her, but it seemed to be working, because the sapling parroted her. She turned to the journal that sat open next to a quill and inkwell and quickly wrote down her new discovery.  _ ‘The sapling’s vocabulary works off of mimicking sounds.’ _

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After two to four hours of ripping broken New Krytan from the sapling, Caithe finally got to the hard part: Getting her name and letting her socialize to expose her to more language.

Caithe pointed to herself, “My name is Caithe.” then to the sapling, “Your name?” 

The sapling would strain to refrain from mimicking the whole sentences, clawing and kneading the dirt to attempt to de-stress. “My name… my… my name… Enn…” The sapling’s claws would dig deeper into the earth as she dragged the letter out further, and Caithe would hold her hand out to the sprout’s direction.

Caithe could hear the quick footfalls and heavy armor clinking against itself, even through the door blocking out the sound. “Niamh…” She muttered, passing a worried glance over to the sapling who was now face first into the little hole she’d dug, searching for bugs, Caithe would assume. “Brambles…” 

The sylvari would cock her head sideways at Caithe, then whimpered when Caithe quickly took hold of her arm, leading her into another room.

“Hopefully the bathing chamber will hold you…” Caithe would gesture for the sapling to stay put, then quickly rushed to the door to greet the noonbloom. “Niamh, is something amiss?”

Niamh would raise her brow at her sister’s haste. “Actually, there is. Many of my wardens saw a creature heading south through the Caledon.” She plainly stated as she crossed her arms, throwing her gaze behind Caithe, examining the small abode.

“I’m sure it’s just a wolf chasing down a rabbit. Your wardens should be able to take care of it."

“Really? Usually you’re always up for investigating anomalies in the fauna of the forest.” Niamh stared down at Caithe, passively intimidating the smaller nightbloom. “Are you sick?” She would joke, giving the other a slight smirk, only for it to turn to a grin when Caithe would deadpan.

“Actually, Niamh,” Caithe’s eyes would flick back to the bathroom when she heard faint ripping sounds, then back to Niamh, “I’m a bit tired. It’s a bit early for me to be up.” She practically spat, just enough force behind her words to make it plainly obvious to the warrior that she wasn’t lying. Entirely, at least.

The noon bloom sighed, taking a step away from the house’s entrance. “Of course. Get rest, sister.”

Niamh would quickly turn on her heel and make her way back to the ramp leading to the surface, and Caithe held her breath until the entrance shut closed. 

Quickly moving to the bathroom, she would come upon the discovery that the sapling had ripped the large petals from her head in turn for growing long vines in bulk, similar to the leafs that grow on Willowhearts. The sapling’s hair had already grown to an extreme length in such a small time, already reaching to the small of her back. 

Caithe stared at the sapling as she gnawed on the discarded petals. The firstborn couldn’t shake the feeling of concern over the sapling’s observed appetite for sylvari remains, even if they were her own, but the nocturnal instinct that plagued nightblooms was still prevalent, even for an adventurer, and she decided to rest. 

After all, the sapling could wait. She seemed calm enough for a small break from being watched.


End file.
